


Object of Affection

by fyredancer



Series: Object Fixation [2]
Category: Tokio Hotel
Genre: First Time, M/M, Twincest, light kink (objects used as sex aids)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-18
Updated: 2013-02-18
Packaged: 2017-11-29 16:11:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/688893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fyredancer/pseuds/fyredancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bill has a bit of an object fixation...Tom catches him in action and lends more than a helping "hand."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Object of Affection

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the toho_kinkmeme based on the prompt: _Bill isn't brave enough to buy a dildo but he's desperate for penetration, enough that he will use any vaguely phallic item he finds to get off. Tom catches him in the act and takes pity._
> 
> I WROTE THIS. I trust no one is surprised~
> 
> Banner by the wonderful tokiobillhotel!

Bill was desperate for it.

They'd been trapped on their tour bus for days. Bill had been crammed in elbow to elbow with a group of smelly boys and he had needs, deep-rooted busting at the seam urges that required satisfaction.

It was a hotel night at last, and despite the fact that Bill had to share a room with his brother, he was beyond excited. He'd finally get the chance to scratch his itch until he was satisfied, or at least until he was too sore to continue.

Sometimes he liked to have movie and cuddle night with Tom, and that fulfilled one kind of need in him. Often, though, the comforting, sexy scent of his brother and the delicious warmth that Tom's arm around him kindled in Bill only got him riled up for playing with himself later, but then he felt bad for objectifying him and had to make it up to him by clinging all the next day. Tom didn't seem to mind...

Tonight, though, Tom was headed out to meet some girl, always seeming to have numbers on hand whether they'd been to the town they were playing or not. Normally this bothered Bill on levels with which he wasn't prepared to cope, but right now he didn't even care because they had a free night and he was going to shut himself up in his bedroom for _hours._

Bill liked to put things in his arse. Needed it to come, in fact; but rarely had the privacy he needed to have a good long wank that included the leisure to lube something up and slip it in while he fondled himself. Fingers wouldn't do, and he was far too terrified of the potential consequences if he were to so much as attempt to buy a vibrator, so he'd long since grown used to subverting household objects to his desires.

It had started when he was younger, and stole one of Tom's Nerf swords after eyeing it up for nearly a month and wondering 'what if...what if...' After peeling the foam off, he'd revealed a smooth plastic core. Half a bottle of hand lotion later, Bill had sprawled panting over his bed in the throes of the most toe-curling orgasm he'd ever enjoyed, and Tom had never gotten his Nerf sword back. He was used to Bill losing his things, anyhow.

Ever since, an orgasm without penetrating himself using something capable of hitting his sex button, as he'd taken to calling it, just wasn't enough. He'd used everything from the closed end of slim empty bottles - usually when he was desperate - to the thickest markers kept from signings. His favorite, though, was when he could find a perfectly innocuous object, one that could go through security screenings without giving him so much as a blush, and use it again and again.

His current favorite was a brush he'd appropriated from Natalie after praising its ability to sift through his thick, snarl-prone hair without ouching. That wasn't what he'd admired most about it, though. The handle was thick, narrow at the tip before flaring out, slimmer at the middle, and wide again before pinching in where the bristles began. It was fashioned out of ribbed rubber, and Bill was pretty sure it had been lust at first sight.

Past embarrassment over the ability for a well-shaped brush handle to give him a hard-on - hell, he'd even enjoyed fantasies about his microphone - he had spirited his new acquisition straight to the bathroom to see how he could make use of it. To Bill's delight, the bristles were on a rubber tread that he could easily peel off and reapply, leaving him with something to grip while he inserted the handle into his needy bottom.

Once Tom had been gone for a good half hour, Bill sprinted into the bathroom, squeeful and flutterclapping, to unearth his brush and favorite lotion from the toiletries case. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been able to pamper himself through more than one orgasm.

Bill stripped in the bathroom, trying not to glance in the mirror at his skinny, undefined body as he bared it. He preferred Tom's golden-skinned nudity to his own, though he tried not to think about why. Besides, he'd never say so because Tom was full of himself as it was. He did give himself a little grin, cocky and excited as he picked up his brush, bottle of lotion, and a towel for clean-up.

Without further ado, Bill rushed over to the bed to get settled, already rising hard with anticipation. He wasn't much for foreplay with himself; it was a brush, and he couldn't get wet, after all. Sometimes he went as far as three fingers but tonight, he just couldn't wait. He slicked up one finger, pushed it in just enough to open himself a bit, and spread a generous handful over the rubber handle before kneeling in position.

"Ohh," a soft, shocked noise escaped Bill as he put the handle in. It had been a while and it was bigger than he remembered.

He gritted his teeth and arched his back, pushing his butt out to open himself up some more. His eyes smarted and it stung a bit, at first, until he angled his hips and his hand and found the place where the tip of the brush rubbed up inside him and sent sparks shooting up his spine.

"Nn!" Bill bit his lip, because he tried to be quiet even while pleasuring himself, hyper-aware there were people on the other side of the wall. He was fully hard now, but not quite ready to contort himself so he could pump the handle inside him and reach between his legs with his other hand.

He squeezed his thighs together, instead, and clamped his teeth down to prevent a moan as he built up a steady rhythm. The handle went smoothly in and out and he quaked with his rising orgasm. He'd known he wouldn't be able to last long for his first...

"Bill?" The voice came out of nowhere, Bill had been so focused on his body's responses as he aimed for his sex spot again and again.

"Tom??" Bill wailed, struggling to turn and see Tom yet somehow simultaneously try to hide his shame. "You're supposed to be at your date!" He leaned on one arm with a little grunt and probably only succeeded in spreading himself even more, if Tom's startled intake of breath was anything to go by.

"Uh, it ended early," Tom replied, sounding stunned. "She turned out to be underage. Bill, is that a brush in your arse?"

"What?" Bill gasped, trying to pretend this wasn't happening. He was mortifyingly sure this was worse than his mother walking in, because at least they'd never speak of it again. Tom would make fun of him _forever_.

"Is that a brush?" Tom repeated, his tone lodged somewhere between horror and incredulous amusement.

"Get out!" Bill tried to shriek, but the brush handle slipped deeper in as he fell on one shoulder trying to glare at Tom and it turned into more of a breathless moan.

"Bill, what are you doing with a _brush_ up your arse?" Tom demanded, taking another shuffling step into the bedroom. " _Why_ are you...?"

Bill was crimson from his collarbones to his earlobes, he was sure of it. The worst part of this whole nightmarish scenario was that he was still arse up on the bed, brush handle buried within him, too scared stiff to move because his twin, the one person more important to him than life, had stumbled in on his deepest, most perverted secret. "Shut up! It's not like I can go around buying vibrators; how can I? Think of the Bild headlines..." With a muffled groan he tried to smother himself against the nearest pillow while reaching back to pull out his makeshift dildo.

"You know you could have just come to me, right?" Tom was asking.

Bill's eyes went very wide and his body grew still. "I never...I could never have asked you to...I mean, I need to feel something _in_ me to come, but I'd never, I mean, you wouldn't even _want_ to...anyhow you like girls!" he babbled.

Silence from behind him, and Bill buried his burning face against the covers.

"Well, I meant I could buy you vibrators," Tom spoke up, his low voice not amused in the least, not anymore. 

"Get out," Bill mumbled forlornly into the pillow.

Tom's hands brushed over the bare skin of Bill's arse. "No," he said, and the low note of authority went straight to Bill's dick; he couldn't help but release a quiet little moan.

Bill quivered in place as Tom's hands explored the curves of his arse before one hand wrapped around the stripped brush head.

"You know, I really think this is too dangerous for you," Tom told him, conversational. In one smooth movement he pulled the brush out, making Bill gasp, his toes curling. "You need me even for this, don't you."

It wasn't a question, but Bill found himself nodding frantically as one long finger slipped into his hole before it could close up.

He gasped into the bed covers as Tom's finger probed inside of him, questing around and sending pleasurable thrills through Bill's body, making his limbs weak and his cock spurt with pre-come from only that much. Tom cupped one of his buttocks in the other hand, kneading it and spreading him at the same time he moved his finger in and out, curling and rubbing against a delicate inner wall, almost but not quite _there_.

"Mmf," Bill grunted, his whole body jolting back. He wriggled like a worm on a hook, trying to get Tom to hit his sex spot. He wanted it bad, so bad and he was ready, slicked and open. He needed... "More!" He gasped out the word, trembling and wanton.

"You like this?" Tom asked him bluntly, sliding one finger out to the tip and plunging two into him so deep it made Bill cry out.

"Yes, yes, I need it," Bill replied, breathless and trying to brace himself up on his arms but he was a mess of adrenaline and nerves. At the same time the needy pulse at the core of him was urging him this was okay, this was all right, he wanted it _so_ badly and if Tom was up for it, he was going to let it happen. 

"You're so hot," Tom husked lowly, working his fingers in and out and making Bill mewl for more again. "So hot and so tight..."

Bill could only whimper an incoherent response and try to offer his arse up, hoping Tom would get the hint. His belly was tight and his cock was leaking pre-come; he'd scorned the touch of his own fingers but he could take Tom's forever. Unless Tom had something better on offer...

Tom pulled his fingers out, making Bill cry feeble protest into the bed covers.

"You want something more, don't you?" Tom murmured. "You need more than fingers, right?"

"Nn, nn-hnn," Bill responded with a fervent moan, mussing his hair against the nearest pillow.

The shivery sibilance of a zipper split the air behind him and Bill trembled in place, barely able to string two brain cells together to comprehend this was happening. A steadying hand touched his waist and he leaned back against it. He was so excited he tried to rock against the bed covers until two strong hands hauled him into place.

"Don't move," Tom ordered, and when Bill only mewled and shivered where he was, squeezing his thighs together, Tom huffed something brief and disbelieving, unintelligible.

A brief splurting noise reached his ears. Bill bit and licked his lips and another uncontrollable shiver spasmed through him at the sound of liquid, sloppy stroking, lotion over flesh. Then Tom's hand was warm and rough on his hip again, and knuckles brushed into the curve of his arse.

"Ohh," Bill released the shocked exclamation as something hot and blunt settled against his hole, slick with his own lotion. He'd never felt a dick at his entrance before but he knew that was exactly what it was.

"Is this okay?" Tom said, anxious as he hadn't seemed since the moment he'd walked in on Bill and his brush handle.

"Please, oh please," Bill managed, arching his back to settle the hot radiant head of Tom's cock right where he wanted it.

The first push sent Bill swooning against the bed. He moaned as he was breached, something larger than fingers entering him, hotter and thicker and _better_ than anything he'd ever taken. He whimpered and gnawed on the pillowcase and settled his knees wider to both spread and brace himself as Tom mounted him.

It was amazing, something thick and hot and vital opening him up, transforming penetration into an intense and pleasurable intimacy he'd never known. Bill keened as Tom filled him, shifting his grip to seize Bill's waist in both hands. He tried to bury his face to muffle himself as he uttered little cries, helpless to the pleasure of Tom pressing into him to the hilt.

"Lift your head up," Tom ordered, his strong fingers digging into Bill's waist.

Bill whimpered and shook his head.

"I want to hear you," Tom added in a gentler tone. "Come on, brace up on your arms for me?"

The sweet 'for me' did it, and Bill struggled to make his arms behave in a fashion more sturdy than the cooked noodles they were emulating. He lifted his flushed, sweaty face free of the bed covers and a moan was prised out of him as Tom pressed back and forth in him, giving Bill a taste of what that could do for him.

"Oh," Bill wailed again, pushing back into it.

"You're ready for more," Tom ground out, not asking. He clasped Bill's hips in his hands and rutted into him, slow at first but building up speed to match the scorching heat between their bodies.

Bill couldn't manage words. All he could do was pant and keep himself propped him on his arms as Tom began to give him slow thrusts, overwhelming and perfect. The feel of Tom's cock going in and out made his face hot, made him ache for more even as he was getting it so good, and if he couldn't form syllables then at least he tried to express appreciation in soft little cries and eager moans.

The slow, deliberate strokes had Bill gasping, flooded with heat and so overloaded with his first taste of sex that all he could do was lie there and take it.

"Yes," Tom was murmuring, his hands gripping tight as his hips kissed Bill's rear over, and over, and over. "Yes, yes..."

Bill sobbed a desperate, wordless plea for more, trying to gyrate back against Tom's firm grip, needing something, needing _more_...

He yelped, startled and unbelievably aroused as Tom pulled back enough to ride maybe half his cock out, and plunged back in with one smooth movement. He did it again in swift succession, and when Bill arched his back - whether to try to escape or crowd closer, even he didn't know - Tom plowed right back in, fast and hard.

Bill moaned with abandon now, lit up from the inside as Tom touched all the right places within with only his dick. His dick, his beautiful dick; Bill was sure he could write songs to it and how wonderful it was, if only he could find a euphemism tame enough to slip past Jost and the others. He might have babbled something to that effect as Tom held onto his hips and fucked into him, battering at his sex spot as relentlessly as he stroked his guitar.

"I'm going to...!" Bill began to warn, digging his toes into the bed to brace himself for incoming orgasm. It was his first of the night and he'd already known he wasn't going to last long.

Tom pulled out, instead, making Bill cry out weakly as he was flipped over. They were face to face. Tom was bare-chested, sheened over with sweat, his dick poking out stiffly from the front of his boxers.

"Take your hat off," Bill said hoarsely, reaching up with an insistent hand.

Tom made a face at him. "That's all you can say?" He began to tug it off over the mass of his dreadlocks, though.

"Put your dick back in," Bill added, sprawling back against the bed and folding his legs up toward his chest.

"Oh, fuck yes," Tom responded. Hat cast aside, he was on Bill in the next instant, pushing his hard, slick cock back in where it felt so good.

It was so much more intense this way, Bill took that in at once as he gazed raptly at Tom's face and their bodies fitted together. Tom was focused, a tiny frown etched on his brow, and he began to move over Bill, mouth open and dreadlocks swaying.

"Ah...ahh!" the noises tumbled from Bill unbidden, and he lifted a hand to cover his face.

Tom snatched it aside, pinning his wrist to the pillow. He groaned, a surprisingly deep sound, and rocked faster into Bill. "Almost...?"

Bill nodded, frantic. He was tingling all over and his cock felt heavy, hyper-sensitive where it was squashed between their stomachs and taking friction with each sweet revolution of Tom's hips.

Tom lurched over him, catching his mouth on an upswing and thrusting his tongue into Bill's mouth.

Bill cried out and came, biting down on Tom's tongue.

Tom pulled back, shaking his head and giving Bill that little smile only for him, bashful and wry and confident all at once. He pumped his hips faster, hard enough to make the bedsprings squeak and Bill along with them, before dropping his weight onto Bill and burying himself as deep as he could go and shuddering in his arms.

Patting along his back, Bill cooed wonderingly,"Tom...Tom, Tomi." He squeezed his legs tight around Tom and marveled in the tremor that went through him. The notion occurred to Bill that Tom was affected by all this on a level as fundamental as he was.

As Bill began to murmur sweet loving things, Tom lifted his head from the curve of Bill's neck.

"So, better than the brush?"

Bill stuck his tongue out. Tom leaned down and trapped it between his lips, giving it a teasing nip before thrusting where he was still seated and making them both moan.

"Better," Bill decided, not to massage Tom's ego but because it was true.

"I could replace it permanently, you know," Tom began, cocking a brow.

"I dunno, I think I need another go," Bill informed him, pulling Tom down to him for the first of _many_ more kisses. He'd make him work for it, but Tom was better than any object, so far as Bill was concerned.


End file.
